


once your heart was in me and then it walked away

by Nary



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Changelings, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Parenthood, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 00:30:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: Barbara struggles with Jim's departure, and those left in Arcadia Oaks try to help her.





	once your heart was in me and then it walked away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Measured_Words](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/gifts).



Every morning when Barbara Lake woke up, the first thing she would do (after putting on her glasses) was to pick up her phone and see if Jim had sent her anything. New Jersey was three hours later than Arcadia Oaks, and often he would already be up and about, sending her a quick note to say he was okay, or, if she was lucky, a longer message about what he was up to that day. He was pretty good about texting her every day, and sometimes he'd send a selfie as well, or a picture of the new home they were building there. The trolls worked quickly, and it seemed like they already had most of a new hidden town constructed. 

On mornings when there was no message or photo waiting for her, Barbara couldn't help but worry. She tried not to do the nagging mother thing and send "Where are you?" and "Why haven't you texted?" messages. Sometimes she failed, although she usually managed to phrase it more as "Hi sweetheart, how are you today?" Jim was busy, and he had his own life to live. She was still part of it, just... less of a part than she had been a few months before. She had to keep reminding herself that letting go was a natural part of parenting, even if the circumstances were different than she'd expected. Jim getting a car, going away to college, getting a job, getting married - those had been expected milestones. Jim turning into a troll and moving to New Jersey hadn't been on the list.

Still, she had plenty to keep her busy. Baby Walt was foremost among them. Not knowing at first what to do with all the babies who had been recovered from the Darklands had been stressful, but fortunately the people of Arcadia Oaks had risen to the task. Just about everyone who was able to take in a child had done so, until all of the changeling children had homes. Even Claire's parents, whom she certainly would have forgiven for deciding they had too much on their plates, had volunteered to foster one of the infants, the little girl who had been Zelda Nomura. 

Barbara had initially had her own doubts about raising another baby. Would she be able to take the time away from her work at the hospital? Was she emotionally prepared for the task of caring for a child right now? At the core of her fears: was she trying to replace Jim? Was it unfair to her current son to bring a new child into the family without consulting him first, and was it unfair to that baby to have to grow up with a mother who might always be comparing him (consciously or not) to her older son?

A better mother, she suspected, would have felt all those worries disappear when she looked into Baby Walt's face. She was only human, though, and they still lingered even after she agreed to take him home, just suppressed under the haze of sleep deprivation and exhaustion and remembering how to take care of a tiny person again. More nights than she would have liked to admit, she fell asleep crying in the rocking chair in Walt's room, which used to be the spare room (not Jim's old room, she couldn't face dismantling that yet, so she'd kept it the way he'd left it). She wished, above all else, that Jim could meet his new brother face to face, instead of over occasional video chats. If Jim was still here, she thought, she would have been able to handle this so much better. 

She wasn't alone, of course. It seemed like almost everyone in town knew about what had happened, and knew about what Jim had done to save them. Word got around when an ancient sorceress tried to block out the sun and evil trolls rampaged through the streets, she supposed. Her neighbors and colleagues from the hospital dropped by, awkwardly bringing her casseroles or batches of homemade soup and offering a few words of gratitude mixed with condolences - the things you did when someone in the family had died. "He's not dead!" she wanted to yell, "he's just in New Jersey!" But they were doing it because they weren't sure what else to offer - and, she privately suspected, because most of them knew she was a terrible cook. 

Claire's parents came by regularly for coffee and commiseration while the kids enjoyed playdates together. More than anyone else, the Nuñez family understood what she was going through. It still wasn't quite the same, Barbara thought - when they got pictures of Claire, she still looked like the daughter they had always known and loved, not like a stranger. She tried not to resent them for that, and smiled when they told her about Claire's latest messages while Enrique, Walt, and Zelda toddled and crawled around on the floor.

Toby and Aaarrrgghh stopped in occasionally - Toby accidentally let slip once that Jim had asked him to check in on her and make sure she was eating okay, which sounded like a typically Jim thing to say. Toby brought her burritos that gave her heartburn, but she accepted them each time anyway. Aaarrrgghh held the baby in one giant hand and told her, "You sleep now," and reluctantly, she did. Only a few minor items were broken when she woke up, so she counted it as a successful babysitting job. 

And then there was Walter. The adult one, not the baby. He was hesitant to see her at first, and for good reason - she still wasn't entirely sure she'd forgiven him. Neither of them had any specific expectations of what those visits might become, other than that they had gone through something strange and terrifying together, and they were both hurting. At first she didn't invite him in, but they talked for a while in the doorway. He didn't want to impose - he left as soon as she made it clear she was busy, letting her know that she could contact him if she wanted to talk more. Eventually she invited him in for coffee (well, she drank the coffee, he ate one of her teaspoons). Gradually the visits lasted longer, and became more frequent, and Barbara found that she didn't want to hold on to her anger and resentment anymore. It wasn't easy to let herself trust someone again - trust _him_ in particular - but at least she could try to accept what they shared, what they had in the here and now. There weren't many people who would understand what she was going through, and Walt was one of them - and it was plain that he cared for her, even if he didn't always know how to express it. 

One night, after baby Walt was asleep, she sat with his adult counterpart on the sofa and found herself pouring out her heartache to him. "I feel like I lost my son," she said, staring down at her hands, her voice wavering. "I know that's foolish. Jim's alive, he's healthy, and he's safe with people who care for him. It could be so much worse that it feels ungrateful to be upset about it, and I'd never want to say it to him - he already has enough to worry about, he doesn't need to carry my grief as a burden too. But he's gone so far away, and he's so different... his life is so different than what I dreamed it would be. I thought he'd go to college, find a good job, settle down, have a family... now I don't know what's ahead of him. And I c-can't even help him anymore."

Walter listened patiently. He didn't tell her she was foolish for feeling that way, or that she should be grateful that things hadn't been worse. Instead, when she finally fell silent, he gave her a moment's pause to compose herself and then said, gently, "Barbara, it's all right that you're upset. And it's good that you realize this is about you grieving for the life you'd imagined for your son, not grieving for him. He's still your child, even if he's becoming more than that. Of course you wanted his life to be easy - you wanted him to be safe and happy and successful. But no parent can guarantee that for their children, no matter how much they wish for it. He's on the path that he's chosen, and it's a difficult one, but an important one as well." He paused, and hesitantly put one hand over hers. "And you love him, no matter what, and he knows that. So I don't think it's true that you can't still help him, even if you feel that way." 

Barbara looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. "It's so stupid, but I look at him now and I can't see my baby anymore." She pointed to the picture on the wall, the one from her graduation day, with Jim standing beside her. "That's the face I remember, and now I'll never see it again!" 

Walter gathered her against himself, holding her as she cried for a while, not trying to make it better, just being there as she let out that pent-up sorrow and anger. "You're right," he said eventually. "You'll never see Jim again the way you remember him - but the young troll he's become is still Jim, and still your child in every way that matters. You'll learn to look at his new face and see it as your son, even if you never forget the boy he used to be."

"I'm sorry," Barbara said, sniffling slightly. "I probably sound like an asshole - like all that matters to me is what my son looks like, or that he goes to a good college." She glanced up at Walt, suddenly and profoundly aware of two things: that she was telling all of this to a man who had recently had his own appearance change drastically, for reasons outside his control, and that she was still wrapped in his arms and extremely close to him. She didn't pull away, though part of her thought she ought to.

"It's a lot to take in at once," Walter said. "Sometimes the superficial changes are easier to dwell on than the bigger ones - they feel like they should be more controllable, maybe, and letting go of that control is frightening." He hesitated for a moment. "Does the way I look now bother you as well?"

"No," she said, reaching up to graze his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "It took a little while to get used to, but now you just look like... you." 

"Then it will be the same with Jim," he replied. "He left so soon after the change that you've barely had a chance to process it yet - and photographs aren't the same. Once you have a chance to spend more time with him in person, your heart will come to accept what your head already knows - that he's your son, no matter what he looks like."

"But who knows when that will be," she muttered.

"Not as long as you fear, I'd wager." He ran his fingers through her hair, and she leaned to rest her head against his chest, finding it comforting. "Once they get a gyre up and running, he'll be able to visit more easily. And while it would be challenging for him to travel here by car or airplane, there's nothing to prevent you from visiting him using such methods."

Barbara sighed. "I know you're right. I don't want to impose on him, though."

"You fear your presence would be a burden to him. I felt the same not so long ago about you," he admitted. "But as it turns out, rather than being a burden, one can serve as a reminder that it isn't necessary to carry all of one's burdens alone. You aren't so different from your Young Atlas, Barbara Lake. But you don't have to do this all by yourself."

"That might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," she said, lifting her head to look up at him with a smile. They leaned in, closing the gap between their lips, when Barbara's phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced over at it, and saw that it was a text from Jim. Instinctively she reached over and grabbed the phone, worried about what it might be.

 _Good night, Mom, I love you._ It came with a photo of Jim, smiling, with a sleepy Claire snuggled up against his arm. Something in her chest unclenched and for the first time in a long while, she felt comfortable with waiting until the next day to answer.

"Is everything alright?" Walt asked her.

"Yes," she said, setting the phone aside again and leaning in to finish that interrupted kiss. "It's going to be alright."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
